Certainly over the last 50 years, as motorists have sat in the interminable backups on I-55 leading to the Poplar Street Bridge, a great number of them have glanced to their right, and spotted a strange sight: a church, partially obscured by the overpass, but still holding on its own amid the fumes and cacophony of the automobile age. Perhaps there is no other church in all of St. Louis that has faced as many challenges to its physical existence than St. Mary of Victories, the second oldest church in St. Louis after the Old Cathedral. Sandwiched between the interstate and abandoned warehouses that once housed the Crunden-Martin Company, the church is working to maintain a Roman Catholic presence on the southern riverfront that has existed since 1843. Last Saturday, Father Brian Harrison, of the Oblates of Wisdom and congregant Jim Hooper gave a tour of the historic church to St. Louis Magazine.

Back in the 1840s, St. Louis was rapidly growing, and its original parish church, which we now call the Old Cathedral, was rapidly becoming too small to absorb all of the new immigrants flooding the new residential districts being laid out south of the original town. And to the surprise of the original inhabitants of the city, these newcomers were German, arriving with their new lager beer, language, and customs. While it’s hard to imagine today, the area around the new site for the church was surrounded by houses, small factories and the bustling riverfront only a couple of blocks away. Compton and Dry, as well as Whipple Fire Insurance Maps, preserve the memory of the tens of thousands of people who once lived within a short walk of the church before industrialization took over in the late 19th century.

The name for the church, St. Mary of Victories, remains relatively rare to the present day. The name comes from a series of Christian victories against the Ottoman Empire in the 16th century. In particular, the Battle of Lepanto, where at the behest of the Pope, an alliance of various Roman Catholic navies defeated the Ottoman navy on October 7, 1571, of the coast of Greece ranked as the most important. Led by numerous leaders, including Giovanni Andrea Doria, the Christian forces credited their victory to the Virgin Mary. The feast day of Our Lady of the Rosary is now held on the anniversary of the battle.

The new church’s cornerstone was laid in 1843, and built in two phases in 1844 and 1859-60. Rejecting the architecture of the old Europe they left behind, architect Franz Saler (and according to some sources, aided by the great George Barnett), designed the new church to reclect the influence of Neoclassical architecture, argued by Thomas Jefferson and others as the appropriate style for the new democracy of America. While there are some interesting Egyptian Revival lacunae demonstrated in the monumental tapered front portal, and some stylized lotus capital bedecked columns supporting the choir loft inside, what makes St. Mary such a remarkable edifice revolves around its expression of Neoclassicism in America before the Romanesque and Revival styles began their dominance of ecclesiastical architecture after the Civil War. What is also interesting about the front façade was that the architects originally designed the building to be viewed from the street only, with the knowledge that other buildings would bracket the church on either side. In fact, the side walls of the church are still largely unadorned, only visible now due to the demolition of neighboring buildings in the mid-20th century.

Inside, where the roar of the interstate is miraculously shut out, the simple, classical interior reminds one of the Church of the Most Holy Name in Rome with its clear, unobstructed sight lines and relatively short transepts. Of course, this church is much less adorned than its partner in Rome, with clean, elegantly adorned walls. The shallow apse, where the high altar sits, contains various original sculpture by St. Louis German American sculptor Max Schneiderhan. Separated from the crossing by a magnificently carved wood Communion railing, the apse also possesses remarkable volume amplification qualities, essential before the advent of microphones. In the back of the church, a double balcony provides room for a large pipe organ. The second, lower balcony provided quarantined seating for nuns who treated smallpox victims; the door that once led to their convent is still visible. Various altars adorn the church. Of particular importance to the congregation is the statue of the Blessed Francis Xavier Seelos, whom the congregation hopes will be canonized in the near future. Also of interest is an altar given by Dr. Edward Preuss, a former Lutheran who had written a polemic against the Virgin Mary; upon his conversion to Roman Catholicism, he regretted his attacks and gave the altar as penance. Another altar, dedicated to the Virign of Guadalupe, seems appropriate; Giovanni Andrea Doria carried an image of the saint during his victory at the Battle of Lepanto.

The church, which was converted into the Hungarian national church dedicated to St. Stephen of Hungary back in 1957, is facing its own battle for the future, just as Doria had faced his own centuries before. St. Mary of Victories sits cut off from its original neighborhoods, and the interstate separates it from the rest of the city. Having been given the church back when the parish was closed, Father Harrison and his colleague Monsignor John F. McCarthy are working to keep this historic landmark open. On March 20, the St. Mary of Victories is hosting a “Mass Mob,” inviting Catholics and others from around the region to worship and support the church. Father Harrison has a fascinating personal story; born Presbyterian in Australia, he converted to Catholicism on a mission trip to Papua New Guinea. He even met the last Hapsburg empress of Austria, whose family also once ruled Hungary before being deposed in 1918. The Father possesses a considerable record of publication on theology that is rare in St. Louis. With Monsignor McCarthy, Father Harrison combines the regular mass with elements of older Catholic tradition from previous centuries. The church is in an excellent state of repair, and the time to establish a stable financial footing is now, before that situation changes. With the lamentable demolition of St. Bridget of Erin last month, St. Louis now knows that no historic church, no matter how rich its history, is safe. Come out on March 20 and show support for one of the oldest vestiges of the city’s storied Roman Catholic history.